Enemies Like You And Me
by WarlordFil
Summary: In an alternate universe where the First Contact War never ended, Commander Shepard and Garrus Vakarian meet on the battlefield-as enemies. But destiny will not be denied... Garrus/FemShep, AU. 2 chapters. First story of a series.
1. Chapter 1: Enemies Like You And Me

**Author's Note**: This story was written for (aka when my imagination became demonically possessed by) a prompt on the Mass Effect kink meme. As a result, it's a little racier than my usual Mass Effect fare.

The scenario is an Alternate Universe where the First Contact War never ended, and Commander Shepard meets Garrus Vakarian—as enemies.

The sexual language and detail are akin to what you'd find in a Silhouette Nocturne paranormal romance novel, and since those are sold on the public shelves at Wal-Mart (and not in erotic bookstores) I feel that their level of sexuality is appropriate for the M rating here. Also, there's a good deal of cussing. Hey, they're at war.

This story is part one of a trilogy (the second and third parts being "Allies Like You and Me" and "Partners Like You And Me.") It's set in an alternate universe and has nothing to do with either my regular storyline ("Where Angels Fear To Tread"/ "Closer to Home") or the renegade!Garrus in "Man of Dust."

I couldn't find a place to work it into the story, but neither of them are wearing armoured hardsuits. Being at war for so long has eaten up resources, and money has been spent on weapons instead of armour, so their clothing is more like modern arctic survival gear than the typical Mass Effect armour.

Obscure Themesong: "Enemies Like You And Me" sung by Ruth Pointer and Billy Vera, off the "Iron Eagle 2" soundtrack. You can find it in youtube if you enter the title in quotation marks.

**#**

**Enemies Like You and Me**

Major Jane Shepard felt the ground shudder beneath her feet, knocking her off her stride as she ran from the crumbling compound of buildings that had at one time been Humanity's base on Oya. She had a pistol in one hand, and a duffel bag filled with supplies in the other. The base had been a hell hole—ramshackle and small and the only civilization anywhere on this wintry planet that, as far as Shepard was concerned, proved that hell was _cold _instead of hot.

To be honest, the base hadn't always been Humanity's. The turians had built it long before, ostensibly to keep an eye on batarian raiders in this system, but it had been abandoned and rotting when the Alliance had found it. It had been a great staging ground for operations against the turians on the world that the humans called Chango and the turians called Caligo.

It wasn't long after the Alliance had started operating out of the base before the turians remembered they'd once had an outpost here, and come back to claim it as their own. The base had changed hands several times since then, because unfortunately, the batarian raiders who were the reason for the base's existence were still around. Whoever controlled the base invited attacks from the raiders, and it often became too much for either side to fend off both the batarians and their opponents in the war.

Shepard had heard rumours that humanity had been ready to wash their hands of this place—the benefits weren't really worth the losses they took defending it—save for the fact that if the turians had it, they'd be in a prime position to strike at the human colony on Obatallah. And so humanity had struggled to hold onto Oya for no better reason than to deny it to the turians.

Now, it seemed that nature had intervened. Earthquakes were ravaging the area, tsunamis were throwing icebergs about like bath toys, and the Alliance scientists were ninety percent certain the base was about to sink into the sea, forever denying it to both sides. Just as well, perhaps.

Assuming Shepard got out of there before it went down.

Her squad were the rear guard, the last group of humans to be evacuated. Everything had been going smoothly until the fucking batarians had shown up. Bastards. The raiders were crazy and desperate, coming in here to loot even as the ground shook beneath them and the walls came tumbling down. There had been fifty of them and only six humans; Shepard had been on patrol on the other side of the base when the batarians had hit. Now Shepard was the only survivor, and between the earthquake, the batarians, and the blizzard coming up from the south, she might not keep survivor status for long.

She needed to find a vehicle and get the hell out of here before the bridge to the mainland collapsed. There was another landing zone several hours' drive north, which would hopefully be batarian-free. She could hole up there and wait for the blizzard to lift and an evacuation vessel to get her off this stinking hellhole of a planet.

Shepard rounded the corner, only to find that one of the previous earthquakes had caused the roof of the garage to cave in. _Shit, shit, shit._ Surely something had been parked outside…

…There. A truck? Shit, it was a _turian _vehicle. And lying next to it were three dead turians.

Shepard had to smirk. It looked like the turians had sent a recon party to investigate the human evacuation. It also looked like the batarians were good for something after all. Fucking turians, they weren't going to be getting this base back. The earthquake would drop the whole thing into the sea—just as soon as she got out of here.

The turian vehicle was strange-looking, with huge oversized tires and heavy armour, but a truck was a truck, and she didn't even have to hotwire it…the ignition pass was still in its reader. Shepard started the vehicle and carefully examined the controls. What was wrong with turians' brains, that you pulled _back _on the throttle to go faster?

The counterintuitive controls meant that the vehicle lurched to a rough, but satisfactory, start. Nursing the throttle, Shepard pointed the truck towards the bridge.

The fucking batarians had beaten her to it. They'd set up a machine-gun nest, covering the bridge to kill anyone attempting to flee. Shepard braked to a stop, just out of the gunner's range. What the hell was she supposed to do now? Her pistol wouldn't hit the gunner from this distance, and she'd be a sitting target if she pulled out onto the bridge.

Unexpectedly, the batarian gunner's head exploded in a shower of red mist. A loud rifle crack echoed moments later.

In the same instant, a single heavy thunk sounded on the passenger side of the truck. A gust of cold air slapped her as the door swung open, a figure tossed itself inside, and the door slammed shut. She couldn't tell if her rescuer was a man or a woman under the heavy winter gear, but the sniper rifle clutched in the figure's hands made it clear who was responsible for the batarian's death.

"Go! Go! Go!" the soldier said, in a voice that sounded male. He cranked down the side mirror, letting an icy breeze into the truck's cab as he leaned out the window with his rifle and took aim at something behind them. _Snap. Snap_. The rifle reports echoed. "Scoped and dropped!"

Shepard didn't need to be told twice. She threw the truck into gear and slammed on the gas. The vehicle lurched forward and wallowed for a moment in a snowbank; then its wheels caught and it took off down the road. Shepard pulled the throttle back as much as she dared given the slippery road conditions—Oya's roads were permanently icy and it was about to get worse. The sky was ominously dark, and a few flakes were already beginning to fall.

It would take them about two hours to get to the LZ, longer if the roads deteriorated. Shepard wondered if that would take them far enough away from the batarians. She only hoped the raiders were more interested in pillaging the base before the earthquakes got worse than they were in pursuing two soldiers.

And now, as she drove, she had time to think about the crew members she'd lost. She felt sick. This was all that was left of her team?

At least someone had survived. Shepard glanced at the sniper, who was hanging out the window looking back now, covering their retreat with his weapon. She didn't recognize his voice. Perhaps he was from another unit, though she'd thought her team members were the only humans left on Oya. This was hardly the time to distract him with personal questions…

…but he was retreating back into the cab now. Apparently there were no more batarians back there for him to shoot. That was a comforting thought.

"Have you heard from Quatra and Taerax?" the sniper asked, and what the hell was that flange in his voice?

Shepard realized that the words were running through the translation device on her omni-tool at exactly the same time that he turned to look at her. She caught a glimpse of blue facepaint, a heads-up display on his left eye, and his right eye, an impossible shade of blue. She wasn't well versed in turian expressions, other than the look of vague puzzlement they tended to have when they died, but right now she was willing to bet that the look on his face meant _oh fuck _and it probably matched her own expression right about now.

The turian's eyes narrowed. His fist lashed out at practically the same time.

He was fast, but so was Shepard. She'd already started moving, both sideways and towards him, as she drew the combat knife from her belt. His fist caught a glancing blow on her jaw, made worse by the fact that she was moving forward into the punch, and it was going to bruise.

But her blade sank into his chest.

The tip of it skidded on something hard. Shepard had her full weight leaning into the strike and then the knife bit in deeper, hitting home.

The turian gasped. He kicked backwards, trying to get away from her. His door must not have been latched properly, because it swung open under his weight, and he fell out, taking her knife with him.

_Goodbye, turian asshole._

Shepard turned her attention to the road, narrowly stopping the truck from winding up in a ditch. She spun the wheel, getting the vehicle back on the road, which hopefully didn't have any more machine gun nests along it…

_Shit_.

The batarians had landed somewhere. They might have used the same LZ that she was evacuating towards right now.

Shepard slammed on the brakes.

Leaving the truck idling, she drew her pistol and headed off through the snow.

The turian was lying in a snowbank, pumping medi-gel into the wound left by her knife. When she approached, he growled at her; his right hand held her knife while his left was pressed over his wound. He seemed to have no other weapons but her knife and the sniper rifle.

"I've got a deal for you," she snapped.

The turian regarded her as if to say he was listening.

"I can't drive and shoot at the same time. And your ass is going to freeze to death here. So if I help you back up into the truck, will you shoot batarians, and not me?"

"Where are we going?" he growled, sounding surly, but he had said _we_ and not _you_. Shepard took that as a good sign.

"LZ two hours up the road."

He nodded, then looked back over his shoulder. "I can't leave without my team."

"Three of them?"

Another nod. A suspicious look.

"They're dead. It wasn't me," Shepard added quickly. "I found them dead next to the truck. Our vehicles were fucked. I needed a ride."

His mandibles went slack. He forced a growl, but it sounded halfhearted.

Shepard didn't want to know if the slack-mandible expression meant _grief_.

"My team's dead too," she said awkwardly. "Look, all that's left is you and me. I don't want the batarians to get us too."

_Me._ I don't want the batarians to get _me _too, Shepard corrected in her head. I could care less about _him_.

"Deal," the turian said grudgingly.

"Let me take a look at that."

He snarled warningly, but as she put her hands on the wound, he relaxed and submitted to her examination.

The bulky padding of his parka had taken most of the blow. The knife blade had hit one of his plates, skidded across the hide in a shallow furrow, and then sunk home in an area that Shepard figured was analogous to the muscle between a human's ribs. His skin was strange—soft, like suede, and very warm, surprisingly pleasant to touch. She'd expected him to be cold, like metal, or maybe slimy like a lizard.

"I think you'll make it," Shepard said with a snort as she bandaged the wound using supplies from his personal first aid kit. Honestly, she didn't know if she'd hit any organs or not. She could only hope that the wound was minor enough not to interfere with his shooting and serious enough to stop him from trying to mess with her.

"Let's get going," the turian said, pulling away from her, doing up his parka again.

Shepard tried to help him up into the cab.

"I don't need a human's help," he growled.

"Shut up and climb." She shoved on his bony ass, boosting him up into the tall vehicle. Then she hurried around the front and into the driver's seat before he could get any ideas about driving off without her.

He'd settled himself into the passenger's seat, looking angry and withdrawn. She put the truck into gear and set off down the road while he scanned the landscape, looking for batarians. The ground rumbled ominously beneath them.

"This planet is a shithole," she muttered.

"Tell me about it."

#

"Never saw me coming!" the turian exclaimed as they drove past his handiwork—three batarians sporting large perforations in their vital organs.

"Cocky bastard, aren't you?" Shepard muttered, but she had to admit, the turian was _good_.

The LZ was a…well, in the couple months when Oya thawed, it was a meadow. Most of the year, like now, it was a snow-covered field ringed by hardy evergreen trees.

"Over there," he said, gesturing to a gap in the treeline.

"The road stops here," Shepard protested. "How are we supposed to get the truck over there and why would we want to?"

"Underground hangar," the turian replied smugly.

"What?"

"You never found it?" he asked mockingly. His mandibles flared in what was definitely an obnoxious grin. "There's a hangar down there with heat, communications, food….well…food for me anyway."

"I've got food in my pack, wise ass."

"Then drive as close as you can. We'll walk the rest of the way."

#

"Is this what turians call heat?" Shepard asked sardonically. She'd stripped off her soaking wet parka, snow pants, and boots, but the clothes she wore underneath weren't much dryer. The base was darker than the pits of hell save for the light of their flashlights. She shivered, clutching her free arm around her middle, and glared at the turian's legs in the arc of her flashlight beam.

"I'm working on it," he growled. The upper half of him was hidden underneath the control panel he was currently working on. "Instead of standing here making sarcastic comments, why don't you start a fire so we can warm up some food?"

"Don't you people have stoves?"

"Do you want power for food, or power for heat? Two of the generators are busted and I don't think I can fix them tonight."

Shepard considered telling him that she wasn't a cook and to go fuck himself, but thought better of it. The walk in had been long and hard; the truck hadn't gotten far before the snow had bogged it down. She'd had to carry her heavy pack full of supplies, but he'd been hampered by the injury she'd given him. They were both tired, hungry, soaked to the skin, grieving their teammates, and generally miserable, and the company didn't help.

So she gathered up combustible materials and started a small fire in the middle of the floor. After cooking and eating her own meal, she'd asked the turian what he needed to cook his. Funny. His food pouches were warmed up in boiling water, just like hers.

While he ate, he told her that he'd gotten the heater working, but that it would take a long time for it to heat a space as big as the hangar.

"Great. So that means we'll be warm tomorrow, if we don't die of hypothermia tonight."

"Pretty much." He flared his mandibles in a grin.

"Wonderful." She eyed him. "How long is our truce in effect?"

"Two options," he replied. "Right now, we're currently in danger of freezing to death and/or being discovered by the batarians, but I suppose that doesn't have to stop us from trying to kill each other. Or, we could wait till tomorrow when the base is warm, and I could switch the power over to the comm arrays. You could comm your people, I could comm mine, and then we sit and wait to see whose rescue ship shows up first."

"So if my guys get here first, you're my prisoner, and if your guys get here first, I'm your prisoner?"

"It would only be fair."

Shepard thought for a moment. The turian was a lot better with repairs than she was. She wasn't sure she could get the comm arrays working herself. She probably shouldn't kill him in his sleep. If she had to, she could always kill him later.

"Deal."

"Done. Now we should probably try to get some sleep."

Shepard frowned. Her clothes were damp and she was only going to get colder once the fire died down and she stopped moving around.

The turian, on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit bothered at the prospect. He vanished into a storage room and returned a moment later with a roll of foam under one arm and something that looked like a large rolled blanket in the other. He laid out the foam, near the fire for warmth, far enough away to be safe from sparks. The blanket was unrolled on top of it.

He straightened up, examined his handiwork, nodded with satisfaction. Then he turned to her.

"Strip."

Shepard was sure she'd heard him wrong. "What?"

He was shrugging out of his own clothing even as he spoke to her. "If you want to sleep in wet clothes, that's your business, but I'm not letting you into my sleeping bag when you're damp all over. That bag is dry and I plan to keep it that way. And when you get hypothermia and die, don't come crying to me."

Shepard closed her mouth, which had been hanging open. The turian had some good points—it was imperative that they stay dry and warm, and moisture in the sleeping bag would be very difficult to get out again. "You're letting me into your sleeping bag."

"I don't want hypothermia. Two are warmer than one."

At least he didn't make any rude innuendos about body heat, Shepard thought as she took off her clothing.

She tried not to watch him strip, but she did catch a glimpse of him climbing into the sleeping bag. He'd taken everything off. Shepard drew the line at her underwear and bra.

She walked over and caught the edge of the bag, but the turian growled and ripped it out of her hands. "Take it _all _off."

Shepard was freezing and covered in goosebumps. "Let me in!"

"Those clothes are damp."

"I'm not taking off my…"

He sat up in bed, lighting fast, and slid one of his talons under the front of her bra. His claws were razor-sharp and sliced through the band as though it were made of butter. Her bra flew apart, leaving Shepard shocked and indignant. The fucking turian couldn't even be bothered to look at her newly-freed tits. She stepped back as he took a swipe at her panties. "Fuck off!"

"Fine, get hypothermia," he snarled as he rolled over, turning his back to her.

"Asshole," Shepard hissed as she stepped out of her panties and reached for the sleeping bag again. She felt horribly vulnerable, but she was so damn cold she'd _stopped _shivering—a bad sign. She was tired, and wanted to sleep. Another bad sign.

But there was no way she was going to fall asleep next to a turian. He had his uses, she thought as she crept into the sleeping bag and zipped it behind her.

Holy God, was he warm.

She pressed her body against him, trying to absorb every bit of heat she could from him. She really didn't like that he was as naked as she was. She'd heard of humans—both male and female—who'd died after getting raped by turians. It all depended on how allergic they were to turian dextro-amino acids. Granted, to be fair, she also knew human soldiers who'd done the same thing to turians. There was one on her ship—Chikari, his name was—who got off on it. Chikari was a miserable excuse for a human being, but damned if he wasn't good at killing turians, so the Alliance looked the other way.

He interrupted her train of thought. "You'd better hope I'm not allergic to you," he growled.

"You want to die, go ahead," she shot back. She felt naked and vulnerable and bitchy.

"Then how would you stay warm? By the Spirits, you are _frigid_."

"Go find another sleeping bag, then."

He huffed. "My reaction to you _might_ be fatal. Hypothermia would _definitely_ be fatal. We're both too fucking cold to warm up a bag by ourselves…" He rolled over, growling softly. "I don't trust you at my back," he hissed.

"Good. I don't want a face full of spikes," she shot back.

"It's called a fringe," he retorted.

She didn't care what it was called. It felt like he was spiky all over. His chest plates were rough and abrasive, rubbing against her breasts, causing her nipples to harden into nubbly little peaks. There was another plate or something jabbing her in the thigh. She shifted her hips, seeking a more comfortable position.

_There_.

Shepard sighed, wriggled herself a little closer, and realized with a sudden jolt that some part of the turian's anatomy was rubbing against her bud in a way that felt much better than it ought to.

Well, to hell with it. What did she care if he didn't like the idea of her getting a little pleasure off him? If he even knew what she was doing. She rubbed against him a little more. Damn, that felt good. She could feel his hips cradled against hers, and…

…wait…

"Roll the hell over," she demanded, her voice shaky.

"I thought you didn't want a faceful of spikes."

"I also don't want a fucking allergic reaction."

He raised an eye ridge sardonically. "And what makes you think…."

"Listen asshole, if that's your cock, I know damn well what can happen if you decide you're going to fuck me in my sleep." She hadn't survived the batarians and the earthquakes only to die of anaphylactic shock.

"I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last…" He broke off. "Wait…that isn't…is that your…"

"It damn well is, asshole."

"Shit," he growled as he pulled as far away from her as the sleeping bag would allow.

"Yeah, shit," she retorted. "Now roll over."

"You stabbed me on that side."

"Too bad." Damn it, her clit ached now. Her body wanted more.

"I should have gotten laid before this mission," he muttered. "Then we wouldn't be having this problem."

She snorted. "You do that? Fraternize with your fellow soldiers?"

"Sex relieves tension. Our military understands that." She could hear the sneer in his voice. "I've heard about you humans. How you can fight with a crew of celibate soldiers is beyond my imagining."

"We're not always good with that rule." Shepard had had a few good times with a biotic soldier named Kaiden Alenko until he'd gotten killed in a fight with a turian commando called Nihlus. To Alenko's credit, he'd taken the turian down with him, but that had been little comfort to Shepard in the lonely nights that followed.

"Hypocrites."

"You still want to fuck me."

He made a guttural snarl and didn't deny it. His next words were terse, clipped. "Would it help if I got a condom?"

"You have one?" she asked, shocked.

"We're turians. We're allowed to screw our fellow crewmates all we please, as long as we don't get anyone pregnant or spread diseases." She heard him chuckle in the dark. "One of my squadmates in basic knocked up our base commander. _Not_ pretty."

"What did they do to him?"

"Him? Nothing. She got a dishonourable discharge and knocked back to third tier social rank."

"Seems unfair."

"Why? He could hardly refuse a superior officer. She ought to have known better." Now his voice sounded like a leer. "It's not as though our military doesn't provide plenty of condoms. Even in an outpost hangar like this one."

This was wrong. This was sick. She ought to say no. She ought to tell him to go to hell.

She ought to just shoot him.

But what were the alternatives? Getting hypothermia? Risking anaphylactic shock? She sat there, her brain spinning, shivering as the turian slipped out of the sleeping bag and sprinted across the room with one of the flashlights.

He was cold when he got back, and she shuddered from his icy touch. She gritted her teeth and pressed herself against him, hoping he'd warm up soon.

And he did. Oh, he did, and soon she found herself running her hands over his shoulder blades, exploring his carapace, acquainting herself with his body. He was wiry but strong, and reminded her of an ex-lover who'd been a long distance runner. He'd had a body like this, spare and lean…

"This isn't right," she whispered as she felt her body reacting to his proximity. She wasn't sure if she was protesting to him or to herself as she spread her thighs and rested her knee on his hip. She felt him hard and firm against her clit and felt betrayed by the wave of pleasure that rolled through her body.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will personally hunt you down and put a bullet in your head," he growled as he wove his talons through her hair.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll stab you in the heart next time."

He chuckled, nipping at her shoulder with those sharp, sharp teeth.

"Stop that," she snapped. "It makes it harder for me to pretend you're human."

She found a nice place for her knee—right in the hollow of his waist. He groaned, a sound that suggested he liked that _a lot_. "You're too soft to be a convincing turian."

"And you still want to screw me."

"I'm desperate."

She wasn't sure if that comment was meant to insult her or if he were really making a confession. On the other hand…wasn't she more than a little desperate herself?

"We just survived the batarians," she murmured, moving against him, "and the earthquake, and the blizzard. And we might freeze to death before our people come…or starve to death…or something…." She arched her back, driving her hips against his, so close that she could feel the tip of him slide down from her clit, nestle against her opening. "Haven't we earned a break?"

His next words came out in a rush, so quickly she could barely decipher them. "Will you accept me as your mate?" It sounded like some kind of turian _thing_, some ritual he'd ask of a female of his own kind.

"What?" she said, taunting him.

"Shut up and say yes."

"Why should I?" she asked belligerently.

"Because if you don't, it makes me a rapist and a dishonourable piece of filth."

"Maybe you are."

"I hate you," he hissed.

"I hate you too," she retorted, and put her cheek against his. "Yes."

He wrapped his talons around her ass and pulled her against him. She felt him enter her in a quick, darting movement completely unlike anything she'd felt from a human. Funny, she'd expected it to hurt; now she found herself disappointed. His cock was thin, barely filling her at all.

On the other hand, now that she was right up hard against him, she discovered he had a very nice little ridge at the base of his cock, some kind of armour or something, and it was in the perfect position to rub her clit as she moved back and forth against him. The fucking might be a letdown but she could definitely get off from the manual stimulation, and surely that was good enough…

Then she felt something that had her tensing and grabbing his shoulders for support. Was it her imagination or…

No, he was definitely getting larger, expanding inside her. She could feel him moving in and out of her, and with each thrust his shaft was slightly wider. "What's happening?" she whispered, clutching at him, at the same time frightened and aroused.

"I'm filling you," he murmured in her ear, and then he thrust deep into her and groaned. "Spirits…"

She barely heard him, his epithet drowned out by her squeal. That deep thrust had hit the spot in more ways than one. "Like that," she told him, "do it like that…"

He did. Oh, God, he was good and big now, a perfect fit, stroking her deep inside with rhythmic thrusts. She reached down and grabbed his bony ass—there was actually some nice curve there, she discovered—and urged him against her in time with the beat of her hips. The next thing she knew, she was moaning loudly. How could she help it, when he was thundering against her G-spot with such power and precision?

He chuckled. "You like that."

"Shut up and fuck me."

The turian surged against her. She felt her body stretching to accommodate him, and then she felt the edge of a mandible against the side of her neck, followed by a long howl. She guessed that his mouth must be wide open. "How the hell do you do that?" he whimpered as he increased his tempo.

"Do…do what…" She could barely speak. Her heart was racing; she wasn't sure if she was seeing glints of light from the fire off the roof and walls of the hanger, or if there were stars in front of her eyes from insufficient air.

"Expand…so I can't quite fill you…it takes…it takes so long to fill you…you fucking tease…" His breathing was ragged; his breath was hot. His talons raked her back and dug into her shoulders.

"Not my fault…if you can't…handle it…" she panted. His rough chestplate rubbing against her nipples, his ridge against her clit, his cock deep inside her…she was getting bombarded with pleasure from all her hot spots and she didn't know how much more of it she could take. Of course, if she could get more than one orgasm out of this turian bastard, so much the better…

He howled again, kicked up his pace another notch, and Shepard found out exactly where her breaking point was. He rolled, taking her with him, and suddenly she was flat on her back, her knees wrapped around his waist. Her body spasmed against him, her hips pistoning, driving him deep, fucking him hard, and he responded in kind. She screamed, wondering if any batarians up above could hear her, and then his howl joined her scream.

Second later, he slid out of her and rolled off of her, onto his side. She could feel him moving his arms; she assumed he was getting rid of the condom.

"We got sweat in the sleeping bag," he said at last. "Now it's going to freeze, and we'll get cold."

"Should've let me wear my underwear to bed, asshole."

"And miss this?"

"You know, there is another option," Shepard said thoughtfully.

"What's that?"

"How long until the heaters warm this place up?"

"It'll take all night for it to get comfortable in here, but the risk of hypothermia should be over in three or four hours."

Shepard looked up into the dimness, wondering if she'd lost her mind for even suggesting this. "How long can you go?"

"I'm good for a few rounds. Yourself?"

"Same." She glanced over at him, his blue eyes shining ferally in the light from the dying fire. "How fast can you go again?"

"Right now."

"Seriously?"

"Of course." He tilted his head. "Is this a surprise?"

"Suddenly your not being human is looking like a good thing." She reached out, caught his wrist. "Give me your hand."

"What's this?"

"I'm teaching you some foreplay, asshole." She rolled onto her side, resting her back against his chest, and brought his hand up to her upper breast.

"Squishy," he murmured. "No wonder you wear that harness."

"It's called a bra." She put her hand over his, showing him how to cup, how to stroke, how to tease her nipple between her fingers. She arched her back and sighed; the turian was a quick learner.

"Excuse me," he murmured, suddenly squirming away from her.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Getting another condom."

She chuckled. "Have I ruined your own species for you yet?"

"Don't push your luck."

#

Commander Shepard looked down at the turian snoozing on her chest and felt her head start to spin.

They'd been here in this hanger for two weeks now. How long had it been since she'd bothered putting on any clothes? A few days, anyway. God.

The simple fact of the matter was that survival situations could get downright boring. Every day, they checked the generators, inventoried their supplies, did a few walk-throughs of the hanger to test it for safety and security, and watched the scanners to see if the batarians had found them yet. They hadn't seen any sign of the batarians in days, but they kept watching just to be sure. There were a few big earthquakes, which were frightening, but the hanger was solidly built and it had held together fine. And every day they sent off two signals, one to the turian fleet, one to the Alliance.

Shepard cooked the meals, in order to give her turian time to tinker with the electronics. She'd had food for six soldiers in her pack, and since she was the only one left, the food was lasting. She could eat well for at least two weeks more before she had to worry about rationing her supplies. The damn turian had enough rations to feed an army here in this base; he'd be able to last even longer than her.

Once those chores was done, there was little else to occupy their time. Little else, that was, except look for new and inventive ways to screw each other. And that, they had most certainly done.

Sex in the shower. Sex in the truck. Sex down on all fours. Sex up against the wall. Sex bent over the hood of the turian chopper parked in the corner of the hanger. Fast, rough sex. Long, slow sex. Shepard giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"This is a life-or-death survival situation and pretty much all we've done is fuck."

"Complaining?"

"Not as long as the condom supply holds up."

"I figure we can go another three or four weeks before we'll have to start rationing ourselves," he murmured sleepily.

_Fuck_. Where the hell was she going to find a human man who could screw her like her turian did? Good God, why couldn't he be human? She'd date him in a second. Hell, she'd _marry _him.

Of course, if he were human, he wouldn't have that delicious little ridge…or be able to expand inside her the way he did…or take her to that razor's edge between pleasure and pain with those sharp claws and his thick, raspy tongue…

She was on the verge of poking him awake so he could put that tongue to some good use when a sound from the comm startled her out of her lustful thoughts.

"This is Alliance cruiser _Kandahar_ calling Commander Shepard." Shepard looked over at her turian as the voice continued, "Commander Shepard, come in."

"You win," the turian said quietly.

Shepard ran for the comm. "This is Commander Shepard, go ahead, _Kandahar_."

"We have a fix on your position. Can we send a lander?"

"_Kandahar_, be advised that there are batarian raiders in the vicinity, over." She found herself struggling to speak over the lump in her throat.

"No sign of them on our scanner, but just in case, we'll send down Major Chikari and some Marines to cover your withdrawal. How many of you are there?"

_Chikari_. Shepard looked over at her turian and felt her blood run cold.

Yes, she'd known all along that she was going to have to turn him over to the Alliance, assuming his people didn't get here first. And yes, she knew that in her position, he would do the same. But she also knew she didn't want to see Chikari rape him. They'd survived this long together; she owed him better than that.

"It's just me," Shepard said into the comm. "The raiders killed the rest of my team."

"Seen any turians?"

She looked at her mate in the gloom of the hanger. "Only dead ones."

"Roger that, Shepard. We should have the lander down on your position in ten minutes."

"Shepard, out." She switched off the comm.

She walked over to her pile of clothes, started dressing herself. She didn't bother trying to salvage the bra her turian comrade had destroyed on that first night. She hoped no one would notice that she was going without one. She doubted they would under so many layers of arctic survival gear.

Her turian was silent, watching her.

"Are you going to be all right here?" she said quietly.

"I don't…"

"If I leave you here," she interrupted, "are you going to be all right?"

He nodded. "I've got a good month's worth of food here. I got a second generator working the other day. If your ship's leaving the vicinity, it probably won't be long until one of mine come by." He tilted his head. "But I thought I was supposed to be your prisoner now."

"Believe me, I'd love to chain you to my bed and make you my personal slave," she said, trying hard not to cry, "but I don't think the Alliance would let me do that."

"More's the pity," he said, and his voice seemed thick as well.

She didn't take any gear. She didn't need it where she was going. There was really only one thing that needed doing.

She leaned over and kissed him. She didn't care that he didn't have lips, and unless she really was deathly allergic—in which case she'd just keel over dead right now, and really, if the things they'd done in bed hadn't killed her, a kiss ought not to finish her—she could deal with a little sickness when she got to the _Kandahar_. She felt his tongue slide over hers, warm, wet, strangely sweet.

It was the first time they'd kissed.

"Goodbye," she said, and turned her back, running out of the base before the lander could set down. Before she gave in to an impossible urge to just stay here with him forever.

The lander settled into the middle of the field. The bay doors opened, and Major Chikari's Marines stepped out, rifles at the ready. There were no batarians in sight, and her turian was safe in the hangar.

As Shepard stepped onto the lander, she realized that she'd never asked him his name.

**End Part One**


	2. Chapter 2: Adversaries Like You And Me

**Author's Note:**

I write a lot of different sorts of stuff. I've long believed in telling my readers what they're in for in advance, so nobody gets any surprises. The Internet is vast; anyone who doesn't like the offering before them can go read something else. So:

If you would like a dark, dramatic sci-fi tale, read "Man of Dust." If you'd like a relationship-based story with romance and some action, try "Where Angels Fear To Tread" and its upcoming sequel "Closer to Home." If you would like a big ol' lemon, then you are in the right place right here. Disturbingly, I see some story development in this…I am now entirely clear why Garrus was talking about marriage during "Allies Like You And Me." Another attempt at PwP has failed, it seems.

I dedicate this completely unplanned second chapter of "Enemies Like You and Me" to the following: the people who made requests of me, such as: Can I has a "You and Me" fic from Garrus' point of view? Can I has more detail about the Incident with the Helicopter? Can I has more Aggressive!Garrus? Can I has more hate!sex? OMG CAN I HAS MOAR? To Queen Victoria, without whom there would be no Victoria Day, and consequently no opportunity for drunk writing this past weekend, and to the Molson Company for all the beer.

**Adversaries Like You And Me**

Garrus Vakarian stretched out in the sleeping bag and gathered the empty folds of cloth closer to his body in a vain attempt to keep the heat in. It didn't work well; cold air seeped in through the gaps between his carapace and the sleeping bag, chilling him to the bone.

Or perhaps it was the solitude.

The hidden underground hangar was a lot emptier without Field Commander Shepard in it. He was cold and lonely and his body ached for the human who had been his companion here until her cruiser had come and taken her away.

To hell with it. He was not going to be sleeping any more right now. Mechanically, Garrus went about his daily tasks. The hangar was still secure. The equipment was still functioning normally. The supplies were still lasting. But now Shepard was gone.

Chores complete, Garrus paced the empty hangar, not certain what to do with himself. He was agitated and distressed and downright _upset_ and he didn't know why.

It wasn't as though he was going to be stuck here much longer. Just a day after Shepard left on the Alliance ship _Kandahar_, Garrus had received a transmission from a turian scout ship. The heavy cruiser _Pro Patria_ was going to send a landing craft to pick him up just as soon as _Kandahar_ cleared the system. They should arrive in a matter of days.

Just a few days more, and then he'd be back among other turians. He tried to imagine what he would do when he got home. When he'd first arrived at this base in the company of the human, he'd had a whole list of things he wanted to do once he got out of this shithole. Now…now he was going because he couldn't stay. Because there was no point in staying here alone.

Spirits, the first thing he should do was find some willing female and nail her, nail her hard. He needed claws-out, teeth-bared, plate-cracking sex with a woman of his own species to get him to forget about the human named Shepard. He needed to remember how good it felt to sink his talons into a woman's hide, bury his teeth in her shoulder, sink his cock into her and hammer her, expanding inside her, until her plates wouldn't let her accommodate him any further…

He needed to forget how Shepard just kept on getting looser when he fucked her—how humans were stretchy inside, leaving him slowly expanding for the entire mating experience. By the Spirits, the ever-increasing tension had driven him mad and made him want to screw her until he found her absolute limits—or his own.

He needed to forget Shepard's soft little mouth taking his cock between her fleshy lips. He needed to forget about those terrible breast things that made her so aroused when he touched them. He needed to forget about her delicate suede hide and the ropy muscles beneath it, about the strength in her body and the challenge in her eyes…

And most of all he needed to forget the salty, tangy taste of Shepard when she'd kissed him goodbye.

Oh, hell. He knew exactly why he was so upset.

He loved her, Spirits damn her, and now he was paying the price.

#

_One week previous._

Garrus was under no illusions about the nature of his relationship with the human female who had ended up stuck here in this frozen wasteland with him. They had come down to the subterranean hangar to escape batarian raiders, and they had first had sex because they were cold and naked in the same sleeping bag—then they'd kept fucking because they were bored. The simple fact of the matter was that since they had shelter in the hanger, heat from the generators, plenty of packaged rations suitable for both species, and a source of fresh water from melting the snow outside, the basic necessities of life were all accounted for. Every day they ate, sent out comm signals to their respective armies, checked that all was well in the base, and took a look through the security cameras to make sure the batarian raiders who had killed their teammates hadn't discovered the underground hangar. Once that was done…well…

Once that was done, Garrus' eyes would stray to the human, and inevitably she'd be looking back at him, and the next thing Garrus knew he'd be naked and inside her, pounding her like mad. She always made noises to let him know she loved it, the filthy creature, though he wasn't one to talk—_why the hell did sex with a human feel so good _and was he ever going to get off with a turian again?

The fact that he was now, officially, a sexual deviant was disturbing enough. And there was something worse. Lately, these last few days, they'd have their usual good fuck before bedtime and then his human would nestle close to him in their sleeping bag and press her lips against his neck. And he would wrap his arms around her and nuzzle her behind the ear. She would sigh, and he would growl deep in his chest, and they'd fall asleep that way, holding one another, caressing one another…

They were _enemies_, for Spirits' sake.

When the turian army got here—and he could only hope the turian army would arrive before the human Alliance, because he didn't want to think about what might happen if the humans beat his people to the punch—when the turian army got here, he was going to have to hand the human over to them. Who knew what they'd do to her? Torture her. Maybe rape her. And he shouldn't _care_.

And he did.

And that was a serious problem.

After just over a week of intimacy—which had started with sex and recently expanded to include long conversations and cuddling—he was starting to get _attached _to his pet alien. The one who'd _stabbed him with a combat knife_. He should just shoot her in her sleep, really, honour be damned…

Garrus looked down at her now, the soft-skinned creature lying next to him, her strange hair tousled from their exertions the night before, her swollen lips curved up into a smile of pleasure.

It would be a hell of a lot easier for him to hate her if she hated him. If she stopped doing these things that even a turian could tell were displays of affection. If she stopped telling him about her life, and asking questions about his. Maybe if she shoved him away after sex, disgusted at what she'd done and who she'd done it with, he'd be able to stop caressing her neck with his tongue, or ever-so-lightly running his claws down her back until she moaned in relief… He should be repelled by her damned itchy hide, not feeling a thrill at the opportunity to be her fucking back scratcher.

But since he was apparently a xenophiliac pervert who couldn't keep his talons off her, the next best thing would be for him to freak her out enough to remind her that she hated him, and that they were enemies, and that if they were going to screw as a means of easing tension, she at least shouldn't be snuggling up to him after it was done.

This morning he'd successfully gotten showered and dressed before she'd awoken. He'd spent the whole day working on one of the generators, and he'd finally gotten it running. It hadn't been seized that badly, and really, he should have been able to fix it in half the time had he not wasted a few hours dreaming about having sex with his human and another few hours trying to think his way out of the hole he'd dug for himself.

He'd finally arrived at a solution when he let his two distractions merge together. Why shouldn't he have some mindblowing sex _and_ put some appropriate fear into her at the same time?

Except he had to be clever about it. He wasn't a rapist, and he wasn't going to try to take her on physically—he had some natural armour, but she wasn't nursing a partially-healed knife wound. _Fucking human_. It still hurt to move his left arm thanks to the impressive scabbed furrow running over his left rib plate and sinking into the meat on top of it.

No, he was going to trick her, to trap her. Up until now she'd shown that she had honour. He could use it against her. He could get her to agree to something that would prove to her that he was the one in charge here, and he could indulge one of his personal fantasies while he did it. And he knew exactly what he wanted to get her to do.

Garrus was also fairly certain he knew what she wanted in exchange. He remembered very well how she loved it when he licked her breasts, particularly the nipples. She'd swallowed her warrior pride on more than one occasion to ask her to lick her, please, just a little longer. And he had, and she'd writhed beneath him and murmured encouragement…

Yes. She liked his tongue. And last night, just for his own curiosity, he'd let his tongue travel lower, over her flat belly, teasing the little divot in her stomach, and the sounds she'd made! Her hips had started pumping as though he were already screwing her. He'd let a talon slip inside her and she'd come just from one finger and his tongue on her stomach.

How much more would she like it if he licked her _everywhere_?

He swallowed his predatory grin as he saw her approaching.

"Got it working, I see," she said. She had actually gotten dressed in fatigue pants and a light battle jacket.

"I'm good with my hands," Garrus replied flirtatiously.

"Are you." She stepped a little closer. "That's a bold statement, turian. I might ask you to prove it."

"I'm ready for any challenge you give me."

"Dinner first," she replied. "I've got your goop heating up on the stoves right now."

"My, doesn't that sound appetizing." He gave her a roguish wink. "I don't mind if dinner's field rations, if I can have something tasty for dessert."

A slow smile spread over her face. "I think that can be arranged."

#

For the life of him, Garrus could not remember what he had eaten that night. It was either Individual Meal Packet #3, a Palaven curry, or #5, a dish inspired by Taetran cuisine. Both of them tasted like cardboard and were only made bearable by the packets of hot sauce thoughtfully included with the meal. His human didn't seem to be enjoying her dinner much either, as she rinsed a slab of mushy meat off with the water from her canteen.

She caught him watching her. "It's tolerable if you wash off the damn pineapple sauce," she muttered.

Garrus looked at the bile-yellow sauce in question, and the unidentifiable fleshy chunks within, and decided that if he ever wanted to gamble with human food, he'd pick something—anything—else.

She seemed to take forever eating the "ham steak" as she called it. He made tisane, not because he wanted the drink but for something to keep his hands busy as he ran through his plan in his mind.

Finally, at long last, his pet human pushed the remains of the ham away from her. "I can't stand any more of that. Damn, I can't wait to get back to civilization and some decent food."

_And away from him_. Her careless words made him suddenly angry. Yes, she deserved what she had coming to her.

"I could go with some dessert myself," he said, giving her a predatory glance.

"Where are we going to find…oh." A slow smile spread across her face. "I like the way you think."

She wouldn't, soon enough, but for now he set his tisane aside and stalked across the room to her, wrapping his arms around her hips and pulling her against him. "Let me take a taste," he growled in her ear, and let the tip of his tongue brush the side of her neck. "Mmmmmm."

"You are a bad man," she retorted, but by the way she put her hands on his waist—_dear Spirits_—she liked bad men.

Her hand slipped down over his ass. Oh, and she was none too good herself.

"Strip for me," he whispered.

He did love this part. She looked right at him while she slowly unbuttoned her combat jacket, allowing it to hang open enough to give him a peek at smooth, soft flesh, but carefully laying it against her chest so as not to expose her nipples. She shimmied out of her fatigues, turning a full circle as she did so to give him a good look at her ass. Oh. She'd not bothered to wear her underwear. Perhaps she'd washed it and it was now hanging to dry, or maybe she just didn't like having the extra barrier against him—he didn't care. Facing forward once more, she took the flaps of her open jacket in her hand and peeled them back to show off her breasts.

"Very nice," he murmured, approaching at last. He helped her take the jacket off her shoulders; she straightened her arms and let it fall free onto the floor. His talons cupped a breast and she shivered.

When he bent his head and licked the rosy tips of her nipples, she groaned loudly.

"I like this," he said, and slowly sank to one knee as he let his tongue explore her body. "I want my dessert."

"Oh, God," she rasped as he flicked his tongue in and out of her belly button and then continued to trail downward, over her abdomen, lower, _lower_…

She threw back her head and groaned. "Wait."

He hesitated.

"That feels amazing, but…"

"Not that amazing?"

"It feels like a fantasy come to life," she said honestly, "but don't you think that's kind of a, er, heavy risk? For you?" She interwove her hands. Anxiety. She wanted it.

It wasn't as much of a risk as she thought. He'd nipped her a little too hard one night, and he'd gotten her blood in his mouth. He'd even been so stupid as to lick the wound for her, and he knew he'd ingested her blood. If he was fatally allergic to her, it should have killed him on the spot; instead, he'd had only a minor stomachache the next day. A stomachache was a small price to pay for what he had in mind.

But he didn't need to tell her that.

"Imagine the prize," he said with a grin.

Shepard bit her lip in an unconscious gesture that just about drove her mad.

He wrapped his arms around her and looked deeply into her eyes. "I want to make you happy," he said, his voice low and husky, hoping she'd fall for this sentimental act. "I'm a soldier. I'm no stranger to taking chances. But after what we've done already—I'm okay, you're okay. I don't see why we shouldn't at least try."

He could see her deliberating, so—just to make it difficult for her—he stood up and ran his tongue ever so lightly along her jawline, over to her ear, where he gently traced the whorls inside with the tip of his tongue…

"Ngh. All right," she said.

Hah. He could feel her body growing hot beneath his touch. It was gratifying to know she wasn't _that_ unselfish. She cared more about her pleasure than about him. It wasn't just him being the bastard here.

Then she drew away from him. "I…er…I don't feel good about the idea of doing it in return…I mean, unless you're wearing a condom."

"Don't worry about me," he murmured, stroking her ass, her inner thighs. She gasped and arched against him.

"But that's not fair…"

"I have an idea for how you can thank me."

"All right. Let's hear it," she murmured against his neck, and for a moment he almost spilled his plan right then and there.

_You need to take back control_.

"Lie down."

She didn't argue. He let her curl up on the sleeping bag while he rid himself of his bodysuit; then he slipped in beside her and in one smooth predatory movement, settled himself on top of her. His human let out a surprised squeak and pressed her hands to his chest to ward him off.

"This is how the game works," he whispered in her ear, and he was pleased to see little bumps of flesh rising on her arms. She was shivering, and it wasn't from cold. He was scaring her and turning her on at the same time.

Perfect.

"I'm going to put my tongue on you. And you're going to start talking." His mandibles flared. "You're going to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you after we're done here."

Her eyes were huge, but her hands traveled from his chest to his shoulders. Accepting him. Welcoming him.

"Now, if I like what you're saying, I'm going to keep licking. All you want." He ran his tongue over the base of her throat to give her a taste of what he was talking about. She shuddered, moaned, and he watched her nipples tighten right in front of his eyes. Oh, yes, she wanted it.

"But if I don't like what you're talking about, I might get….bored. I might start nibbling on your thigh, or your knee…or maybe I'll just fall asleep right between your legs."

Her mouth made a perfect O as she gasped in what looked like horror. "You wouldn't?"

"Then make it good." He smiled, and let his tongue flick her left nipple.

"That's it? You're going to risk your lif—er, health, for a little dirty talk?"

Oh, she was a smart one. She knew there was a catch, but she didn't know what it was.

He grinned.

"Well, you should be aware that I'm going to treat everything you say as a sacred vow. So you'd better be prepared to follow through on it." He traced the valley between her breasts as she gently kneaded his shoulders.

"You're not going to cut me off in the middle, are you?" Her hands curled around his fringe. "I mean, if I make this sacred vow to you, I better get off."

He laughed. "I'm all yours until you come. Once you're done, it's my turn. Sound fair?"

"Bring it on."

So he did. He let his tongue dip lower, lower, until he was right on the verge of lapping her clit. Then he spent some time moistening her inner thighs and listening to her breathing deepen. He exhaled deliberately, forcefully, and she moaned—yes, she felt it.

"Would you like to play with me?" he murmured.

"Yes," she breathed.

"Then say, _lick me while I tell you what comes next_."

"Lick me while I tell you what comes next," she repeated obediently, and he felt his shaft suddenly dart out from between his plates, not willing to wait for him to be in position to mate. Shit, he'd never been so turned on. And yet, right now he didn't care if his shaft was hanging out for anyone to see. He had his human at his mercy and she didn't even know it yet.

But she would.

He put his tongue on her clit and listen to her sigh. He was surprised that the sound wasn't lustful or laviscious at all. Instead she sounded deeply, blissfully contented, as though she'd found a little piece of heaven.

Garrus gave her a slow, tentative lick. She was so soft; he had to watch his teeth. His tongue sank right into her. And the taste of her…

He hadn't known what to expect. Her flavour was stronger here, tangy and salty. She didn't taste like a turian woman. She tasted like…

She tasted like a salted square, an after-dinner treat. _Oh, Spirits_. She really did taste like dessert.

"When this is done," his human whispered, "I want you…to fuck me."

She was falling for it. He purred and felt her thighs tremble on either side of his face—that must feel really good to her.

"I want to feel your claws in my shoulders," she continued, "and your cock deep inside me. I want your armoured ridge rubbing my clit until I come. I want your talons on my breasts…"

He could spring the trap now, but it would be so much better if he really got her into the oral first, so he kept licking her at a slow and steady pace until her hips began to beat against his face.

"I want you to screw me all night," she was saying, her voice growing rougher. He glanced up quickly. She was gripping her own breasts, rubbing the nipples. "I want to be your mate, your lover…I want to give you my body…."

Garrus let his tongue trail away from her bud, down her thigh.

She wailed before she caught herself. By the time she'd struggled to a half-sitting position, she was glaring down angrily at the turian nuzzling right behind her knee. "What the hell is wrong with you? I'm giving you some pretty good sex talk here! You get your tongue back there right now!"

He flared his mandibles in a lazy grin. "You're describing the same thing we do every night."

"Yes, and you love it, asshole, or you wouldn't keep doing it."

He shrugged. "Well, we could do the usual again if you want, but…"

"What I want is to get off on your tongue, bastard!"

He narrowed his eyes in a predatory smile. "Then tell me something that makes it worth my while."

Her eyes grew round. Oh, this was _delicious_.

And he pressed her. "You want me to take the risk of…how do you say it? Eating you up?"

"Eating me out," she grumbled, though he could see her body shaking. Her bud was moist and gleaming from his ministrations—it must be very frustrating for her to have her pleasure interrupted this way.

"Then you have to offer me something I don't get every night anyway."

She scowled—oh, she _really _didn't like his answer. "I don't have to fuck you at all!"

"Oh, yes, you do," he retorted. "You want me, and you couldn't keep your hands off me."

"You want me too," she shot back. "I think you're the addict here."

Garrus had to play this very carefully. He didn't want her so angry that she wouldn't have sex with him at all. It was time to be a little conciliatory.

"I do want you," he said slowly, "and if the usual is all you want to do tonight, we can get started on it whenever you like." He let his hand gently caress the curve of her hip.

"I want more," she whispered, and he struggled to hide his grin, because he had her now. Right where he wanted her.

"Your choice."

"God, I hate you," she said, and then she lay back down and spread her thighs for him. Her hands cupped her breasts again. "Please lick me. Please. I'll swear I'll give you whatever you like if only you'll…oh!"

Garrus had barely put his tongue on her before her words were strangled by her gasp, followed by a moan of pleasure. His poor human. He finished the lick, followed it up with another, allowed his lover to get a little relief. Then he held still, waiting for her to continue.

"Tell me what you want," she begged. "I can't swear to you if you won't tell me what you want!"

He rewarded her with some gentle lapping and then he murmured against her thigh, "I want you on your knees."

She'd always resisted that position before. The first time they'd mated, they'd laid side by side, facing one another, cuddled in the warmth of the sleeping bag. Once the generators had heated the base, though, they'd no longer been confined to the bag, and their games had gotten a little more adventurous. They usually ended up tussling until either he was on top of her, fucking her vigorously, or she was straddling him, doing the same. But the one thing he hadn't done was mount her from behind. The one time he'd asked, she'd told him where to go, how to get there, and numerous filthy and physically impossible acts to keep himself busy on the journey.

"Fuck you," she said automatically.

He drew his tongue back into his mouth and clamped his mandibles shut.

The truth was, he was starting to enjoy this. She tasted…salty, tangy, not like a turian, but not unpleasant. The opposite of unpleasant. She made his tongue and mouth tingle with a slow burn that suggested he was going to pay for this tomorrow, but right now he couldn't care less. He really didn't want to stop, and he clenched his talons into fists, because if he gave in to her now she'd make him her sex slave from now on…

…_no, that's _not_ a good thing_, he reminded himself.

"You asshole," she whispered, and her eyes were bright with tears. "Fine." She spat the word and then gritted her teeth. "I will bend over…"

He licked her again, slow, sweet.

"…spread my thighs…" She moaned in pleasure as he caressed her bud with his tongue. Her words came through around laboured breaths as his ministrations resumed. "…and put my ass in the air for you. I'll show you how wet I get when you're around. And I'll…I'll…" Her gasp was like a sob, though her hips beat against him in relentless rhythm and her quivering thighs betrayed the accumulating pleasure in her body. "I swear to you I'll beg you to fuck me like an animal." She groaned. "There, you turian son of a bitch, does that make you happy?"

"Yes. Now let's make you happy," he murmured, and intensified his pace.

She cried out. He curled his talons around the cheeks of her ass, lifting her to him, supporting her as she writhed. Her hands clutched her breasts; her back arched. "Oh my god please don't stop please I'll do anything please…"

"I won't," he whispered quickly, between licks. "Trust me and enjoy…"

Her words broke off in a cry. He wasn't sure if she was no longer capable of speech or if she'd capitulated, but right now he didn't care. He knew her most sensitive place, and he sent the tip of his tongue there to swirl and rub with his hot, sweet caress…

Her whole body tensed, quivering like a live wire. She hung on the precipice, helpless in his grip, right on the edge and trusting him to take her over, not to just let her fall.

His human. He let his claws dig ever so slightly into her flesh. In this moment she belonged to him.

He shifted his tongue ever so slightly, increased the pressure just a little bit…

She screamed when she found her release. He clutched her to him, not stopping yet, extending the moment for her as long as he could while she thrashed in his grip, crying out shamelessly. If there were any batarians in a five hundred mile radius they could probably follow the sound of her pleasure right to the spot, and yet he didn't care.

Finally she twisted away from him, unable to tolerate any more. She was licked raw, so sensitive now that any pressure on her secret places made her weep. Even just the act of sitting up made tears run down her face.

Or perhaps she was crying for another reason.

Garrus felt worried again, that he'd pushed her too far. He didn't really want to hurt her…

…He was being an idiot. He wanted her to hate him again; hurting her was really the easiest path to that goal, wasn't it?

"Now," he purred, "you have a promise to keep."

"Fuck you," she spat, seemingly oblivious to her tears. "Fuck you, you turian son of a whore…" Her voice broke.

He waited, and part of him felt terribly guilty for being the cause of her distress. It was taking every bit of self-control the turian military had taught him not to give in, because he wanted to take her in his arms, tell her he didn't mean it. Apologize to her. Beg her to forgive him.

But if he was ever to hand her over to his superiors, he couldn't let himself get attached.

"Fine," she whispered, but her eyes were filled with fire. "You're waiting for me to prove that humans lack honour, aren't you? You're waiting to accuse me of breaking our deal. Or to beg you to let me out of it. Well, screw you, turian. I put myself into this mess and I'll take responsibility for it."

She was naked, but she stood up and drew the remains of her pride around herself like a cloak. Wordlessly, she turned her back and stalked across the hanger.

Garrus was on his feet in an instant. "Where are you going?" he yelled challengingly.

"You want me?" she retorted. "Come get me."

She was standing in front of the turian helicopter parked in the corner of the hangar. The last time the turian military had pulled out of this planet that they called Mori and the humans called Oya, they'd left this single aircraft behind. His human stood in front of it now, waiting for him...daring to tap her foot impatiently.

He growled and sprinted after her. What the hell game was this?

When he drew level with her, she narrowed her eyes challengingly. "You'd better enjoy this, asshole."

Then she turned around and bent over the hood of the helicopter.

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he caught the most amazing glimpse of her secret places, slick with his saliva. She leaned her chest on the vehicle and widened her stance to expose herself even farther. His human pressed her belly against the helicopter, lifting her ass.

His knees trembled. Spirits, she was really doing it. He was going to get to take her from behind…

"I need you to fuck me," she said. "I need you to fuck me like an animal. I want you to mount me and screw my brains out." Her voice quavered. "I need your big, thick, turian cock inside me, because nobody else has ever made me feel like you do. Please fuck me, turian. Please."

Garrus didn't remember putting on the condom or moving towards her. The hangar reeled around him in a haze of lust and the next thing he knew he was on her, in her, giving her every inch of that big, thick turian cock she'd just begged for.

"Yes!" she screamed. "_Yes_! More…harder…!"

Who was he to disappoint his mate?

He wrapped his talons over her shoulders and lapped the back of her neck frantically while he moved against her, feeling himself swell in her soft, slick heat. He pressed her down against the helicopter, and as he did so, he felt her struggling to lift her ass and keep him as deep inside her as possible.

He felt intoxicated. If the turian military showed up inside the hangar right now, they could damn well stand there and watch until he was finished, because there was no force on earth or in space that could get him to pull out of her.

Garrus shoved his hands down between her chest and the helicopter until he was able to grab her breasts and pinch the nipples between his forefingers and his thumbs. He didn't care if his knuckles were scraped raw against the helicopter's hood; she was writhing and bucking and that meant it was going to be worth it.

When he finally came inside her, he put his talons on the back of her head and ground her face into the helicopter's plexiglas while he withdrew and shucked off his condom. "Don't move," he snarled, as he finally released her long enough to seek another condom. Good Spirits, his shaft was out and hard already.

"Hurry up," she retorted. "Don't stop before I get off this time."

_Bitch_. This wasn't supposed to be about her. How the hell was she getting turned on when he was the one screwing her like she was his prisoner?

He grabbed her hips roughly and skewered her.

She howled, beyond speech, and he fucked her, fucked her raw while her fists hammered down on the helicopter. He pulled her onto him, putting her right where he wanted her, listening to her incoherent shrieks on a razor's edge of pleasure and pain.

Garrus didn't remember how many times he mounted her, how often he felt her shake beneath him as he wrenched her orgasms out of her, or what it was like at the end, when both of them reached a place beyond words and simply cried out in inarticulate howls until their throats were raw. Finally, reluctantly, he slid off her. He was not quite entirely satisfied, but he had seen the bruises rising on her skin. He did not want to injure her too badly. Truth be told, he had hurt her far too much already.

She'd hate him now, and though he'd won, he found himself saddened and strangely regretful.

The human's knees buckled under her and she half slid, half tumbled from the helicopter's hood to land hard on her ass on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Tears streaked her cheeks; her chest was red from being rubbed against the vehicle's unyielding hood, and her shoulders were dotted with blood from the points of his talons. Her hips were going to bruise; he could tell.

Spirits, he'd hurt her. His mate. He'd hurt his mate.

_What kind of monster am I?_

He took a step forward, wanting to comfort her, wondering if there was any way he could. His presence might only make her feel worse.

"Are you wounded?" he asked, as gently as he could under the circumstances when he knew damn well he'd caused her pain.

She did not respond in words. She lunged forward, and before he knew what was happening, her arm was locked around his hips, trapping him, and her mouth….

Her mouth was on his opening, on the vent where his cock lay coiled inside until it was time to mate once more.

Garrus sucked in his breath, trying not to think about how _close_ she was. How that soft and flexible little mouth of hers could create a perfect seal and do things a turian woman never could. How she was _sucking_ on him as though she hoped to suck his shaft right into her mouth. This was so wrong. This felt so good. Spirits…

And then he mewled, loudly, because her tongue was invading him, slipping right up inside him to lap the head of his cock even though it was still inside him…

His self-control was shattered. His shaft sprang free, deep into her throat, and she wrapped her lips around him and sucked him hungrily, drinking him down…

It took him all his strength to tear free of her. A whine tore itself from his throat. "I'm not wearing a condom," he whimpered. "You shouldn't…"

But he wanted her to, more than he'd ever wanted anything else before.

Her words were slow and deliberate. "Then tell me to stop."

He couldn't. He hadn't a hope of speaking any more words. His shaft was back in her mouth which was so _soft _and _wet_… Colours were blossoming in front of his eyes. He felt lightheaded. But…

He put his hands on his shoulders and shoved her away. "I could kill you." He staggered.

She grabbed his ass, hauled him close again. "I've tasted your damn blood," she growled. "I licked that fucking wound I gave you, remember? You make me sick, but…not _that_ sick." And before he had a chance to protest, she was running her tongue all over him, and he was swelling even though he wasn't inside her, and nothing could stop him from….

"Now make me a sacred vow," she said in between licks.

He blinked at her stupidly. "What?"

"You know the drill, turian. You want some of this…" She lowered her head and popped her lips over him, gave him a swirl of her tongue, and pulled away again. "…then you'd better start talking about what we're gonna do tomorrow morning."

Oh, shit.

_Oh, shit!_

She'd _played _him.

By all the Spirits, she'd played him, and now…

He knew the fucking answer already—_anything you want_—and he knew that saying it was a bad, a very bad, idea. But he also knew that there was no force in the universe great enough to help him resist her.

"What do you want?" he whispered hoarsely.

She took his cock in her hands and rose up on her knees. He bent his head to hear her.

And she whispered what she wanted.

_Oh, Holy Spirits, no._

"Anything but that," he begged. "Have mercy. Please."

"No." She didn't even bother to swear at him, or call him names. "I played your game. Now you play mine. You want this? Then you swear to obey my command."

He thought about it. By the Spirits, he gritted his teeth and he thought about it, and he'd just about summoned up courage to tell her no when her tongue dipped over the head of his cock one last time.

"Yes," he said instead. "Oh, dear Spirits, _yes_…"

She took him in her mouth and suckled hungrily, sighing, rubbing her breasts against his thighs and caressing his ass with her hands. It felt…indescribable. He could barely remember the horror he'd agreed to even as he cried out, "I swear to you! I swear!" Seconds later, his vision went fuzzy and his legs gave out from the sheer power of the sensations coursing through him. Garrus slammed to his knees.

When his vision cleared, he saw her licking her hands. He was torn between confusion and envy that her sweet little tongue wasn't on him.

Then she reached out her saliva-slicked hand and wrapped it around his shaft.

"How's this?" she murmured. "Now you can come all you like."

"Please." He was whimpering now. "Oh Spirits, please."

She chuckled. "Here. For you."

Control? Garrus wasn't even going to pretend to have control now. His cock pistoned through her deliciously wet hands and he howled mindlessly, like an animal. He lost track of how many times he came. She'd barely let him reload before she was at him again, hungry, relentless, and oh Spirits, he was damned, and he was a bad turian, and he didn't care if only she wouldn't stop, anything, he'd give her anything, his body, his heart, his very soul...

Finally he was too exhausted to harden again. His shaft was raw, aching. It retreated inside his body and dared not emerge. He lay still, feeling the room spin around him as though he'd consumed far too much ale. He could hear nothing but the panting of his own breath and hers.

She laughed as she dropped the unzipped sleeping bag overtop of him. "Sleep well, big guy. Rest up for tomorrow morning." She grinned. "I'm looking forward to making good on my request."

His only response was a low moan of equally mixed dread and desire.

#

Garrus thought he'd spent an hour, maybe two, dozing with his human after he woke up in the morning. Instead, when they finally got around to their morning inspection of the base, they found that it was, in fact, past midafternoon local time. They must have slept for twelve hours or more, exhausted by the prior night's games, and then cuddled for Spirits knew how long. He was clearly getting decadent, and lazy, and soft, and he was permitting the human to get spoiled. She was going to get an unpleasant surprise when the Hierarchy's ship got here and she found herself prisoner of turians more…

…more disciplined than he. _Great_. He was screwing this mission up, big time, and she'd destroyed his will to care.

They'd only bothered the bare minimum of getting dressed the night before, he in his undershorts, she in her panties and a grey sleeveless undershirt, since he'd shredded her bra. He watched her eating her breakfast; she seemed to have little appetite. He didn't feel too hungry himself. His stomach ached from tasting her fluids last night.

It was still worth it.

Garrus discarded his foil package of lukewarm slop, and then he lifted his eyes from a mug of warm tisane to see his human mate staring at him meaningfully.

She beckoned to him, and he gritted his teeth and went to her. He was still turian enough to know what it meant to break a vow. He was not an oathbreaker. He had that much honour left.

He abandoned his drink and went to her. She told him again what she wanted, what he'd promised her, and he'd obeyed her command...

At first it hadn't been so bad. He'd played the game she'd asked of him—it hadn't been so hard—and he'd wondered if he'd gotten off easy. This? She could have made him do anything, no matter how perverse, no matter how dangerous, and all she wanted was this? All it required of him was such a simple lie…

And then something had gone horribly wrong.

Garrus was inside her now, but somehow they weren't fucking. She was sitting on his lap, her long legs wrapped around his waist, her arms on his shoulders, their chests pressed together. His arms supported her shoulder blades and his tongue caressed her cheek as they rocked back and forth together.

It felt good to be buried in her, but not the way it usually did. For once he wasn't gnashing his teeth as pleasure tore through him, struggling to restrain himself . For once he wasn't interested in seeing how hard or how fast he could pound her. For once he wasn't chasing his own satisfaction.

Right now he was contented just to be with her, to feel her wrapped around him, to sink himself into her until they became one flesh. Her little tongue traced the edge of his mandible and he groaned. For the first time, she was not making demands of him either. The lips that usually called him "asshole" and "turian bastard" were busy nibbling his cheek. Her hips swayed perfectly in time with his rocking, not grinding, not urging him on. She seemed as content as he to simply be united in this moment.

_I want you to make love to me, like you love me. _Her unspeakable, impossible demand.

Oh Spirits, he wasn't even pretending any more.

Garrus gave himself to her. He held nothing back. She accepted him, and smiled, and gave of herself in return. He felt as though something had torn him apart—torn them both apart, and then put them back together, but each with pieces of the other scattered through their souls. It made him hide his head and weep.

He'd wondered if he might, someday, do this with a female of his own kind. He'd tried to imagine how it would feel, to make love.

And somehow, for some reason, destiny had seen fit to give it to him now, here, in this Spirit-forsaken place, with this human.

He could only wonder if she felt the same, or if he was imagining her surrender to be as complete and as final as his own.

Fucking human. Evil, sadistic, cunning human. He'd done his worst and she'd matched him every damn step of the way. He'd wanted to indulge his fantasies and make her hate him, bring her to her knees and prove who was in charge here.

Instead, he'd found himself here, making love to her, discovering that despite his best efforts, their duel had wound up a draw.

This, of course, was why he l…

…why he _liked_ her, he corrected himself. Why she was so much fun to fuck.

But after they'd worked their way to a slow, sweet climax…after she'd settled herself against his body…once she'd done that strange "spoon" thing that left her ass resting in the hollow of her hips, her back against his chest and her hair spilling over his shoulder…when she'd fallen asleep in his arms—that was when he finally admitted that she was more than just a good lay.

She was a match for him, as no turian had ever been, and once his rescuers arrived, she'd be gone from his life forever.

And he loved her.

He dared not think about his inevitable betrayal of his own people. He would lie to them, and leave her here. Free. Wherever he went for the rest of his life, he would be able to think of her and know that there was still something precious left in this universe.

For now, though, he mourned—for the impossible brevity of this moment and the lifetime of absence ahead of him. He let his mandibles quiver and his eyelids crush shut while she slept in front of him, oblivious.

The bitch had made him love her, and there was only one thing he could do to salvage the tattered remains of his pride: to never let her know.

#

_One week later_

Garrus Vakarian lay in the darkened hangar and stared up into the sightless black. He wanted his human with him now. His mate. His…love.

He had to remember her name. _Shepard_. His woman's name was Shepard. He did not know if that was a clan name or a given name, but someday he would find out. Someday…if the war ever ended…perhaps he could…

No. The war had begun before he had been born. It might well continue raging long after his death. He could not count on it ending, on finding her again.

He would need to learn to live in a hollow world—in the emptiness she'd left behind.

When the turians came, they would confiscate the gear she had left here and then he would have nothing even to remind him of her, nothing but his memories and…

Garrus activated his flashlight and looked down at his naked torso. He did have one other souvenir.

Gritting his teeth, Garrus raked his upper left talon down the path left by her combat knife.

The wound had scabbed over, but his sharp talon soon set his blood flowing again as he ripped the scabs from his body. He sat there and watched the blue blood seep from the wound and spill down his side. Every day until his people came for him, he would tear it open once more.

Garrus Vakarian was going to have a scar. He would damn well make sure of it.

It was the only thing he had left of her.

~finis~


End file.
